Morning came, frozen and silent.
The Frosted Ram still slept peacefully behind shuttered windows, its warmth trapped inside while the world outside remained buried under the cold snow.
White mist clung to the ground throughout the whole village, drifting around and giving off a mystical feeling. The chimneys breathed thin trails of smoke, and the mountains loomed beyond the village.
The peace was broken by the tavern door opening and a lobe man stepped outside in to the frozen land.
It was Teclos.
His breath fogged faintly in front of him, a testament of hoe cold it was, but his body gave no other reaction to the cold. The wind brushed over his armor, tugged at the wolf fur on his shoulders, and slipped beneath the edges of his cloak, but he did not shiver or barely feel the cold at all.
